FFVII: Konstantine
by Adeline Valencia
Summary: A city without hope. A man without honor. A young girl without her memory. When you only have your life to give to your beloved, how could you not give it? If it was someone you truly loved? Tifa/Sephiroth, AU
1. Preface

p r e f a c e

* * *

I'd had more than my fair share of near death experiences; and I knew it was something that you never got used to.

It seemed oddly inevitable, however, facing death again. It was like I really _was_ marked for disaster. I'd escaped time and time again, but it kept coming back for me.

Still, this time was so much different from the others.

You could run from someone that you feared, you could try to fight another that you hated. All of my reactions were geared toward those kinds of killers -- the monsters, the murderers, the enemies.

When you loved the one who was killing you, it left you no options. How could you run, how could you fight, when to do so would hurt that beloved one? If your life was all you really had to give your beloved, how could you not give it?

If it was someone that you really, truly loved?


	2. Dreaming

C h a p t e r O n e :: D r e a m i n g

* * *

The guard left us in the reception area, where the receptionist still sat behind her polished desk. Bright, harmless music tinkled from hidden speakers.

"Do not leave until dark," he warned us.

Sephiroth nodded at him, and the guard hurried away.

The receptionist didn't seem at all surprised by the change, although she did eye Sephiroth's hair with shrewd speculation.

"Are you alright?" He asked under his breath, too low for anyone else to hear. His voice was rough -- if silk could be rough -- with anxiety. Still stressed and confused by our situation, I imagined.

"You better make her sit before she falls," the man in the red duster said. "She's going to pieces."

It was only then that I realized that I was shaking. Shaking hard, my entire frame vibrating until my teeth chattered and the room around me seemed to fly and blur in front of my eyes. For one, wild moment, I wondered if there was a earthquake.

I heard a sound that didn't make any sense, a strange, ripping counterpart to the otherwise cheery background of the lobby.

"Shh, Tifa, shh," Sephiroth said, sounding worried as he pulled me away from the curious lady at the desk and to the sofa on the other side of the room.

"Hysterics, how amusing. Maybe you should slap her." His friend announced.

Sephiroth only threw a irritated glance at him.

"It's all right, we're safe," he tried, but when he said it, it just sounded wrong. He heard it too and sighed in resignation.

I knew it was stupid to react this way. Who knew how much time I still had to look at his face? He was saved, and I was saved, and he could leave me as soon as we were free. To have my eyes so filled with tears that I couldn't see him was wasteful -- was I going insane?

But, behind my eyes where the tears could not wash the image away, I could still see empty faces of the people wearing the blue uniforms. Expressionless, hollow husks.

"All those people," I sobbed.

"I know," he whispered.

"It's so horrible."

"Yes, it is. I wish you hadn't had to see that."

I rested my head against his chest, using the thick cloak thrown around his shoulders to hide my face. I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself.

"Is there anything I can get you?" a voice asked politely. It was the receptionist, leaning over Sephiroth's shoulder with a look that was concerned, yet still professionally cold and detached. It didn't seem to bother her that her face was inches away from a hostile SOLDIER. She was either totally oblivious to who he was (which was impossible), or very good at her job.

"No," Sephiroth said coldly.

She nodded, smiled at me, then disappeared.

I waited until she was out of hearing range. "Does she know what is happening back there?" I demanded. I was slowly getting in control of myself, my breathing slowing to a normal rate.

"I don't know." he told me. His friend snickered from somewhere by the magazine rack attached to the opposite wall.

"She doesn't know?"

"Receptionists aren't allowed into restricted areas, unless she knows one of the scientists."

That didn't surprise me.

Sephiroth's face was hard to read. "It's a possibility."

I felt the blood leave my face. "How could she know and still be here?"

His eyes were sharp on my face, watching my reaction.

I shuddered. "How could she do that?" I whispered, more to myself than anything. "How could she watch those people file through the hallway to that room to become husks and not do anything?"

Sephiroth didn't answer. His expression twisted in response to something that I had said.

As I stared at his face, trying to understand what the change was, it suddenly struck me that I was really here, in his arms -- however fleetingly -- and that we were not, at this exact moment, about to be killed. Just like that, I was sobbing again. It was a stupid reaction, so stupid. My stupidity was inexcusable. I only had until sunset, for sure. Like a fairy tale, with deadlines that strangled the magic.

"What's wrong?" He asked, his eyes cold with some kind of emotion that I wasn't skilled enough to read.

I wrapped my arms around his neck -- what was the worse he could make himself do? Just push me away -- and hugged myself closer, burying my face in his chest. "Is it really sick for me to be happy right now?" I asked, my voice breaking.

But he didn't push me away. Instead, he pulled me tight against his rock-hard chest, so tight that it was hard to breathe, even though I couldn't even feel my wounds. "I know exactly what you mean," he murmured under his breath. "But we have lots of reasons to be happy. For one, we're alive."

"Yes," I agreed. "That's a good reason."

"And together," he breathed. His breath was warm on a spot near my ear.

That time I just nodded, sure that he did not place the same weight on that consideration as I did.

"And, with any luck, we'll still be alive tomorrow."

"Hopefully," I said uneasily.

"The outlook is quite good," the other man added. He'd been so quiet in the last minute that I'd forgotten he was there. "I could probably be home in less than twenty-four hours." He added in a smug tone.

Lucky him. I could never go home, if I knew where it was.

I couldn't keep my eyes off Sephiroth's face for very long. I stared, wishing more than anything that the future wouldn't happen. That this moment would last forever, or, if it couldn't, that I would stop existing when it did. He just stared back at me with his mako-green eyes, and it was easy to pretend that he felt the same way.

His fingertip traced the circles under my eyes. "You haven't been sleeping." It wasn't a question.

"It hurts alot to lay down." I whispered, wanting to shrug my shoulders but unwilling to move.

He looked at me, and then he looked down. A few of the bandages covering the buckshot lodged in my chest had come loose and had slid up, the edges visible near the top of my vest. His eyebrows drew over his eyes in a way that made me uneasy.

"I'm fine." I told him, but he only looked away.

Was he angry? That I had come for him? That I had put myself in danger to find him? That I had allowed someone to shoot me with a shotgun?

I had a million questions for him. More than one of them bubbled to the surface now, but I held my tongue. I didn't want to ruin the moment, as imperfect as it was, here in this room that made me sick, under the eyes of the evil receptionist.

Here in his arms, it was so easy to pretend that he wanted me. I didn't want to think about his motivations while we were still in danger, or if he just felt guilty for where we were and relieved that he wasn't responsible for my death. Maybe the time apart had been enough that I didn't bore him for the moment. But it didn't matter -- I was so much happier pretending. I sat quiet in his arms, re-memorizing his face...

He stared at my face like he was doing the same, although his eyes were burning, while he and the man in the red-duster discussed what to do next. Their voices were so low that I knew the receptionist couldn't hear. I missed half of it myself. It sounded like more theft would be involved. I gathered from the conversation that the other man's name was Genesis.

I was tired enough to sleep, but I fought against the weariness. I wasn't going to miss another second of the time I had left with him. Now and then, as he talked with Genesis, Sephiroth would lean down suddenly and press his smooth lips against my forehead, my hair, the tip of my nose. Each time it was like a electric shock that was nearly painful to my long-dormant heart. The sound of it's frantic beating seemed to fill the entire room.

It was heaven -- right smack in the middle of hell.

I lost track of time completely. So when his arms tightened around me, and both he and Genesis looked to the back of the room with wary eyes, I panicked. I cringed into Sephiroth's chest as a SOLDIER with blindingly bright blue eyes walked through the double doors.

It was good news.

"You may leave now," he told us, his tone so warm you'd think we were all lifelong friends. "We ask that you do not linger around these parts."

Sephiroth made no answering pretense; his voice was like dry-ice. "That won't be a problem."

The SOLDIER nodded, and disappeared with a smile.

"Follow the right hallway around the corner to the first set of elevators," the receptionist told us as Sephiroth helped me to my feet. "The doors are two floors down and exit onto the street. Goodbye now." she added. I wondered again if she knew about the experiments just behind that door. Genesis shot her a dark look.

I was relieved there was another way out; I wasn't sure if I could handle another tour through the building full of SOLDIER.

We left through two army-style double doors. I was the only one who glanced back at the building that housed the horrible experiments. I couldn't see anyone in the windows, and for that I was grateful. The party was still in full-swing in the streets. The street lamps were just coming on as we walked swiftly through the narrow roads. The sky was a dull, fading grey in the holes of the plate, but there was alot of cover so it looked alot darker.

I didn't notice when Genesis disappeared. I went to look at him and he was just gone.

"He's stealing a car, isn't he?" I guessed.

Sephiroth grimaced. "Not till we're outside."

It seemed like a very long way to the entryway of the festival. He could see that I was spent; he wound his arm around my waist and supported most of my weight as we walked. I shuddered as he pulled me through the dark stone archway. It felt like a cage door, threatening to drop on us, to lock us in.

He led me towards a dark car, waiting in a pool of shadow to the right of the gate with the engine running. To my surprise, he slipped into the back-seat with me, instead of insisting on driving.

Genesis was somewhat apologetic, in his own smug way. "I'm sorry," he gestured vaguely to the dashboard with a red gloved hand. "There wasn't much to choose from."

"It's fine, Gen," He said. "They can't all be 1020 turbos."

The man sighed. "I may have to acquire one of those legally. It was glorious."

"I'll get you one for your birthday," Sephiroth promised.

Genesis turned around to grin at him, which worried me since we were already speeding down the road. "Red," he told his friend.

Sephiroth kept me tight in his arms. Inside the cloak, I was warm and comfortable. More than comfortable.

"You can sleep now, Tifa. It's over." he told me.

I knew what he meant -- the danger, the nightmare in the ancient city, but I still had to swallow hard so I could speak.

"I don't want to sleep. I'm not tired."

The last part was a lie. I wasn't about to close my eyes. The care was only dimly lit by the dashboard controls, but it was just enough to see the reflection from his eyes.

He pressed his lips to the hollow under my ear. "Try," he encouraged.

I shook my head, and he sighed.

"You're still just as stubborn."

I was stubborn; I fought with my heavy lids, and I won. The dark road was the hardest; the bright lights at the train station made it easier, as did the chance to change my clothing and to brush my teeth. Genesis also bought Sephiroth new clothes -- although he looked at them with a disgusted look on his face before going into the bathroom to change -- and left the old ones in a garbage can. The train ride was so short that there wasn't really a chance for the fatigue to drag me under. I knew the other train ride would another matter entirely, so I asked the flight attendant if she would bring me a drink.

"Tifa," Sephiroth said disapprovingly. He knew my low tolerance for caffeine. Genesis was behind us, I could hear him talking to someone quietly on the phone.

"I don't want to sleep," I reminded him. I gave him an excuse that was believable because it was true. "If I close my eyes now, I'll have nightmares."

He didn't argue with me after that.

It would have been a very good time to talk, to get the answers I had needed -- if I would have wanted them. I was already despairing over the thought of what I might hear if I asked. We had a uninterrupted block of time ahead of us, and he couldn't escape me on the train -- well, not easily, at least. No one would hear us except Genesis; it was late and people were asking for pillows in muted voices. Talk would help me fight off the exhaustion.

But, perversely, I bit my tongue against the flood of questions. My reasoning was probably flawed by exhaustion, but I hoped that by postponing the discussion, I could buy a few more hours with him at some later time -- spin this out for another night.

So I kept drinking soda, and resisting even the urge to blink. Sephiroth seemed perfectly content to hold me, his fingers tracing my face again and again. I touched his face too. I couldn't stop myself, though I was afraid it would hurt me later, when I was alone again. He continued to kiss my hair, my forhead, my nose... but never my lips, and that was good. After all, how many ways can one heart be mangled and still be expected to keep beating? I'd lived through alot that should have finished me in the last few days, but it didn't make me feel strong. Instead, it made me feel fragile, like one word could break me, shatter me.

Sephiroth didn't speak. Maybe he was hoping I would fall asleep. Maybe he had nothing to say.

I won the fight against my heavy lids. I was awake when the train reached the station, and I even watched the sun beginning to rise over the buildings before Sephiroth closed the window. I was proud of myself; I hadn't missed a second.

Neither Genesis or Sephiroth seemed suprised by the reception that awaited at the station, but it caught me off-guard. Zack was the first one I saw; he had changed his hair, again. Angeal was by his side, but neither of them seemed to notice us until we were up close. Zack reached for me, hugged me fiercely, yet awkwardly, because Sephiroth didn't let go of me. "Don't ever do that again, stupid." he said, pulling on the edge of the bandages with a mad look on his face. Then he looked up at Sephiroth. "You too."

Sephiroth only shook his head. When Zack pulled away, the smell of his cologne lingered. But the sleepless night was suddenly overpowering, and my head felt disconnected from my body.

"She's dead on her feet," someone remarked. "We need to get her back."

Not sure if home was what I wanted at that point, I stumbled, half-blind, through the station, Sephiroth dragging me on one side and Zack on the other. I didn't know if the rest were following us or not, and I was too exhausted to look. I think I was mostly asleep, though still walking when we reached their car. The suprise of seeing Aerith and Reno leaning awkwardly against the black car revived me some. Sephiroth stiffened.

"Don't," someone whispered. "He feels awful."

"He should," Sephiroth said, making no attempt to keep his voice down.

"It's not his fault," I said, my words garbled with exhaustion.

Sephiroth just glared at the red headed man with the pony tail who seemed to be looking in the other direction on purpose, a odd look on his face. I didn't want to ride with him any more than he seemed to want to ride with us, but I'd already caused enough discord in twenty-four hours.

Sephiroth sighed and towed me towards the car.

Reno got into the driver's seat without speaking, while Sephiroth climbed into the back and drew me into his lap. I knew I wasn't going to be able to fight my eyelids any longer, so I laid my head against his chest in defeat, letting them close. The car purred to life.

It was quiet then, except for the low and gentle thrum of the engine. I must have fallen asleep, because it seemed like only seconds later when the door opened and Sephiroth was carrying me from the car. My eyes wouldn't open. At first I thought we were still at the station.

Then I heard Barret.

"Tifa!" He shouted from a distance.

"Barret," I mumbled, trying to shake off the stupor.

"Shh," Sephiroth whispered. "It's okay; you're home and safe. Just sleep."

"I can't believe you have the nerve to show your face here." Barret bellowed at Sephiroth, much closer now.

"Stop it," I cried sofly, but no one heard me.

"What's wrong with her?" He demanded.

"She's just very tired, Barret," Sephiroth assured him quietly. "Please let her rest."

"Don't tell me what to do!" Barret yelled. "Give her to me! Get your infested paws off her!"

Sephiroth tried to pass me to Barret, but I clung to him with locked and curled fingers. I could feel Barret yanking on my arm with his free hand.

"Cut it out!" I managed, with more volume. I was abled to drag my lids back for but a moment and stare at him with bleary eyes. "Be mad at me."

We were in front of Seventh Heaven. The front door was standing open, and the cloud cover was too thick to guess the time of day.

"Let me down," I sighed.

Sephiroth set me on my feet. I could see that I was upright, but couldn't feel my legs. I trudged forward anyways, until the sidewalk swirled up to meet my face. His arms caught me before I hit the concrete.

"Just let me get her upstairs," Sephiroth said. "Then I'll leave."

"No," I cried softly, panicking. I hadn't gotten my answers yet.

"I won't be far," He promised, whispering so low in my ear that Barret didn't have a hope of hearing.

I didn't hear Barret answer, but Sephiroth headed into the house. My open eyes only made it until the stairs. The last thing that I felt was his cool hands prying my curled fingers away from his shirt.


	3. Answers

c h a p t e r t w o :: a n s w e r s

* * *

I had the sense that I'd been asleep for a very long time -- my body was stiff, like I hadn't moved once during that time either. My mind was dazed and slow; strange, colorful dreams -- dreams and nightmares -- swirled sickeningly around the inside of my head. They were so vivid: the horrible and the heavenly, all mixed together into a bizarre jumble. There was sharp impatience and fear, both part of that frustrating dream where your feet can't move fast enough... and there were plenty of monsters, blue-eyed fiends that were all the more ghastly for their genteel civility.

The dream was still strong -- I could even remember the names. But the strongest, clearest part of the dream was not the horror. It was the angel that was _most_ clear.

It was hard to let him go and wake up This dream did not want to be shoved away into the vault of dreams I refused to revisit. I struggled with it as my mind became more alert, focusing on reality. I couldn't remember what day of the week it was, but I was sure that work or something was waiting for me. I inhaled deeply, wondering how to face another day.

Something soft and somewhat warm touched my forehead with the softest pressure.

I squeezed my eyes more tightly shut. I was still dreaming, it seemed, and it felt abnormally real. I was so close to waking... any second now and it would be gone.

Then I realized that it felt too real, too real to be good for me. The arms I imagined wrapped around me were far too substantial. If I let this go any further, I'd be sorry for it later. With a resigned sigh, I wrenched back my eyelids to dispel the illusion.

"Oh!" I gasped, and threw my hands over my eyes.

Well, clearly I'd gone too far; it must have been a mistake to let my imagination get so out if of hand. Okay, "let" was the wrong word. I'd_ forced _it to get out of hand -- pretty much stalked my hallucinations -- and now my mind had snapped.

It took me less than half a minute to realize, that as long as I was truly insane now, I might as well enjoy the delusions as long as they were pleasant.

I opened my eyes again -- and Sephiroth was still there, his perfect face just inches away from mine.

"Did I frighten you?" His low voice was anxious.

This was very good, as far as delusions went. The face, the eyes, the voice, and the scent -- it was so much better than drowning. The beautiful figment of my imagination watched my changing expressions with alarm. His eyes seemed to be on fire, the agony within them barely hidden. This surprised me; my hallucinatory angels were usually much more happy.

I blinked twice, desperately trying to remember the last thing I was sure was real. Cissnei was part of my dream, and I wondered if she had really come back for me at all, or if that was just the preamble. I _thought_ that she had returned the day I nearly drowned...

"Oh, _crap_," I croaked. My voice was hoarse from sleeping so long.

"What's wrong, Tifa?"

I frowned at him unhappily. His expression was even more alarmed than before.

"I'm dead," I moaned. "I _did_ drown. Crap. This is gonna kill the others."

Sephiroth frowned too. "You're not dead."

"Then why am I not waking up?" I challenged, raising my eyebrows.

"You _are_ awake."

I shook my head. "Sure, sure. That's what you want me to believe. Then it'll be worse when I do wake up, _If_ I wake up, which I won't, because I'm dead. This is awful..." I trailed off in horror at what I had done.

"I can see where you might confuse me with a nightmare." His short-lived smile was grim and full of pain. "But I can't imagine what you could have done to wind up in hell. Did you commit many murders while I was away?"

I grimaced. "Obviously not. If I was in hell, you wouldn't be with me."

He sighed.

My head was getting clearer. My eyes flickered away from his face -- unwillingly -- for one second, to the dark, open window, then back to him. I started to remember details... and I felt a faint, unfamiliar blush warm the skin over my cheekbones as I realized that Sephiroth was really, truly here with me, and I was wasting time being stupid.

"Did all of that happen then?" It was almost impossible to reassign my dream as reality. I couldn't wrap my head around the concept.

"That depends." Sephiroth's smile was still hard. "If you are referring to us almost being massacred in the Shinra mansion, then, yes."

"How strange," I mused. "Do you know I haven't ever been farther east than the waterfront?"

He rolled his eyes. "Maybe you should go back to sleep. You're not coherent."

"I'm not tired anymore." It was all coming clear now. "What time is it? How long have I been sleeping?"

"It's just after one in the morning. So, about fourteen hours."

I stretched as he spoke. I was stiff.

"Barret?" I asked.

Sephiroth frowned. "Sleeping. You should probably know that I'm breaking the rules right now. Well, not technically, since he said I was never to walk through that door again, and I came through your window... but still, the intent was pretty clear."

"He banned you from the bar?" I asked, disbelief quickly melting away into fury.

His eyes were sad. "Did you expect anything else?"

My eyes were mad. I was going to have to have a few words with my adoptive father -- perhaps it would be a good time to remind him that I was over the legal age of adulthood. It didn't matter so much, of course, except in principle. All too soon there would be no reason for the prohibition. I turned my thoughts to less painful avenues.

"What's the story?" I asked in a sad voice.

I was struggling to keep the conversation casual, to keep a firm grip on myself, so I wouldn't scare him away with the frantic, gnawing craving that was raging inside me.

"What do you mean?"

"What am I telling Barret? Or Jessie, even? What's my excuse for being gone for what..." I paused, trying to count the hours. "Three days?"

"Just two." His eyes tightened, but he smiled more naturally this time. "Actually, I was hoping you might have a good explanation. I've got nothing."

I groaned. "Fabulous."

"Well, maybe the others will come up with something," he said, trying to comfort me.

And I was comforted. Who cared what I had to deal with later? Every second that he was here -- so close, his flawless face glowing in the dim light from the numbers on my alarm clock -- was precious and not to be wasted.

"So," I began, picking the least important -- though still vitally interesting -- question to start with. I was safely delivered home, and he might decide to leave at any moment. I had to keep him talking. Besides, this temporary wasn't entirely complete without the sound of his voice. "What have you been doing, up until two days ago?"

His face turned wary in a instant. "Nothing terribly exciting."

"Of course not." I mumbled.

"Why are you making that face?"

"Well," I pursed my lips, considering. "If you were, after all, just a dream, that's exactly the kind of thing you would say. My imagination must be used up."

He sighed. "If I tell you, will you finally believe you're not having a nightmare?"

"Nightmare!" I repeated scornfully. He waited for my answer. "Maybe," I said after a second of thought. "If you tell me."

"I was... hunting someone."

"Is that the best you can do?" I criticized. "That definitely doesn't prove I'm awake."

He hesitated, and then spoke slowly, choosing his words with care. "I wasn't hunting just anyone... I was trying my hand at tracking. I'm not very good at it."

"Who were you tracking?" I asked, intrigued.

"I--" He took a deep breath. "I owe you an apology. No, I owe you much, much more than that. But you have to know" -- the words began to flow so fast, the way I remembered he spoke sometimes when he was agitated, that I really had to concentrate to understand what he was saying -- "that I had no idea. I didn't realize the mess I was leaving behind. I thought it was safe for you here. So safe. I had no idea that Weiss" -- his lips curled back when he said the name -- "would come back. I'll admit, when I saw him that first time, I was paying more attention to the other man than him. But I just didn't see that he had this kind of reaction in him. I think I realize now why he burned Niebelhiem -- he was so sure of his master that he--" he stared at me for a moment. "It was overconfidence that clouded his mind to the fact that he could lose, and therefor he burned the town down in misplaced fury."

"Not that it's any excuse for what I left you to face. When I heard what you told Cissnei -- what she saw herself -- when I realized that you had put your life in the hands of Avalanche -- a immature, volatile group, the worst thing out there besides Shinra" -- he shuddered and the flow of the words halted for but a moment -- "Please know that I had no idea of any of this. I feel sick, sick to my core, even now when I can see you and feel you safe beside me. I am the most miserable excuse for--"

"Stop." I interrupted him. I'd really been hoping to put off this part of our last conversation. It was going to bring things to a end so much sooner. Drawing on all my months of practice with trying to be normal for Barret, I kept my face smooth.

"Sephiroth." I said. His name burned my throat on the way out. I could feel the ghost of the wounds inside me, waiting to rip themselves wide open again as soon as he was gone. I didn't see how I would survive it this time. "This has to stop now. You can't think about things that way. You can't let this... guilt... rule your life. You can't take responsibility for the things that happen to me. None if it is your fault. It's just how life is for me now. So, if I trip and fall in front of a bus or something next time, you have to realize that it's not your job to take the blame. You can't just go running off to Midgar because you feel bad that you didn't save me. Even if I had fallen into that pipeline to die, that would have been my choice, and _not your fault_. I know... it's your... nature to shoulder the blame for everything, but you can't let that make you go to such extremes! It's very irresponsible -- think of Genesis and Angeal and all those others who--"

I was on the edge of losing it. I stopped to take a deep breath, hoping to calm myself. I had to set him free. I had no make sure this never happened again.

"Tifa Lockheart," he whispered, the strangest expression crossing his face. He looked almost mad. "Do you believe that I went after the Vice because I felt_ guilty_?"

"Didn't you?" I could feel the blank incomprehension on my face.

"Feel guilty? Intensely so. More than you could possibly comprehend."

"Then... what are you saying? I don't understand."

"Tifa, I went after the Vice because I thought you were dead," he said, voice soft and eyes fierce. "Even if I'd had no hand in your death" -- he shuddered as he whispered the last word -- "even if it wasn't my fault, I would have gone. Obviously, I should have made sure... spoken to Barret or someone else directly, rather than accepting it secondhand. But, really, what was I supposed to think when..."

"The odds..." he muttered then, distracted. His voice was so low that I wasn't sure that I had heard it right. "The odds are always against us. Mistake after mistake after mistake."

"But I still don't understand." I said. "That's my whole point. So what?"

"Excuse me?"

"So what if I was dead?"

He stared at me for a long moment before answering me. "Don't you remember anything I told you before?"

"I remember everything you told me," I said softly. "Even the words that negated the rest."

He brushed the tip of his cool finger against my lower lip. "Tifa, you seem to be under a misapprehension." He closed his eyes, shaking his head back and forth with a half-smile on his beautiful face. "I thought I'd explained it clearly enough before. I can't live in a world where you don't exist."

"I am..." My head swam as I looked for the appropriate word. "Confused."

He stared into my eyes with his sincere, earnest gaze. "I'm a good lair, Tifa. I have to be."

I froze, my muscles locking down as if for impact. The fault line in my chest ripped; the pain of it made me gasp a breath through my teeth.

He shook my shoulder, trying to loosen my rigid pose.

"Let me finish! I'm a good liar, but still, for you to believe me so quickly." He winced. "That was.. excruciating."

I waited, still frozen.

"When we were in the alley, when I was telling you goodbye--"

I winced. I couldn't allow myself to remember. I struggled to keep myself in the present, for fear of falling apart.

"You weren't going to let go," he whispered. "I could see that. I didn't want to do it -- it felt like it would kill me to do it -- but I knew that if I couldn't convince you that I didn't love you anymore, it would just take you that much longer."

"A clean break," I whispered through unmoving lips.

"Exactly. But I'd never imagined it would be so easy to do! I thought it would be next to impossible -- that you would be so sure of the truth that I would have to lie through my teeth for hours to even plant the seed of doubt in your head. I lied, and I'm so sorry -- sorry because I hurt you, sorry because it was a worthless effort. Sorry that I couldn't save you from what I am. I lied to save you, and it didn't work. I'm sorry."

"But how could you believe me? After all the thousand times I've told you that I love you, how could you let one word break your faith in me?"

I didn't answer. I was too shocked to form a rational response.

"I could see it in your eyes, that you honestly _believed_ that I didn't want you anymore. The most absurd, ridiculous concept -- as if there were any way that _I_ could exist without needing _you_!"

I was still frozen. His words were incomprehensible, because they were impossible. He shook my shoulder again, not hard, but enough that my teeth rattled a little.

"Really, Tifa." he sighed. "What were you thinking?"

And so I started to cry. The tears welled up and then gushed miserably down my cheeks, leaving Sephiroth with wide eyes.

"I knew it," I sobbed. "What is this? Some kind of sick joke?"

"You're impossible," he said, and shook his head. "How can I put this to you so you will believe me? You are not asleep, you're not dead. I'm here, and I love you. I have always loved you, and I always will. I was thinking of you, seeing your face, every second I was away. When I told you that I didn't want you, it was the very blackest kind of blasphemy."

I shook my head hard while the tears continued to ooze from my eyes.

"You don't believe me, do you?" he whispered, his face paler than his usual pale -- I could see that, even in the dim light. "Why can you believe the lie, but not the truth?"

"It never made sense for you to love me," I bawled, my voice breaking twice. "I always knew that."

His eyes narrowed, his jaw tightened.

"I'll prove you're awake," he promised.

He caught both sides of my face in between his strong hands, ignoring my struggles when I tried desperately to turn away.

"Please don't," I whispered in a broken voice.

He stopped, his face only half a inch from mine.

"Why not?" he demanded.

"When you leave again, it's going to be hard enough without this too."

He pulled back a inch, to stare at my face.

"Yesterday, when I would touch you, you were so hesitant, so careful, yet still the same. I need to know why. Is it because I'm too late? Because I've hurt you too much? Because you have moved on, as I meant you to? That would be... quite fair. I won't contest your decision, so don't try to spare my feelings... please. Just tell me whether or not you can still love me, after every fucked up thing I have done to you."

"What kind of a stupid question is that?"

"Just answer it. Please."

I stared at him darkly for a minute. "The way I feel about you will never change. Of course I love you -- and there is no way for me not to -- but..."

"That's all I needed to hear."

His mouth was on mine then, and I couldn't fight him. Not because he was so many thousand times stronger than me -- I knew already that he could lift my full 150 pounds with one arm behind his back -- but because my will crumbled to dust as soon as our lips met. This kiss was not quite as careful as others I remembered, which suited me fine. If I was going to destroy myself, I might as well get as much in trade as possible.

So I kissed him back, my heart pounding out a jagged, disjointed rhythm while my breathing turned to panting and my fingers moved greedily to his face, his hair, his chest. I could feel his marble body against every line of mine, and I was so glad that he hadn't listened to me -- there was no pain in the world that would have justified missing such a kiss. His hands memorized my body the same way mine was memorizing his, and in the brief moment when his lips were free, he whispered my name.

When I was starting to get dizzy, he pulled away only to lay his cheek against my heart. I lay there, dazed, waiting for my gasping to slow and quiet.

"By the way," he said in a casual tone. "I'm not leaving you."

I didn't say anything, and he seemed to hear skepticism in my silence.

He lifted his face to wipe a few strands of hair away from his eyes. "I'm not going anywhere. Not without you,"

"I only left you in the first place because I wanted you have a chance at a normal life. I could see what I was doing -- keeping you away from people your own age, constantly on the edge of danger, away from the world you belonged in, risking your life every moment I was with you. So I had to try. I had to do something and it seemed like leaving was the only way."

He lay his cheek against my collarbone.

"If I hadn't thought you would be better off, I could never have made myself leave. I'm too selfish. Only you could be more important than what I wanted... what I needed. Not only because you are so young, and you have so much to see, but because you mean so much to so many... I couldn't..."

I could feel him shaking his head back and forth against my skin. "What I want and need is to be with you, and I know that I'll never be strong enough to leave again. I have too many excuses to stay."

"Don't -- Don't promise me anything," I whispered. If I let myself hope, it may very well kill me.

His head shot up, and I faced two angry, sea-green, metallic orbs -- which had become slitted in the short time since I had spoken. "You think I'm lying to you now?"

"No -- not lying." I shook my head. "You could mean it... now. But what about tomorrow, when you think about all the reasons you left in the first place? Or next month, when one of your friends take a snap at me?"

He flinched.

I thought back over those last days of my life, before he left me, tried to see them through the filter of what he was telling me now. From that perspective, imagining that he'd left me while loving me, left me for me, his brooding and cold silences took on a whole different meaning. "It isn't as if you hadn't thought the first decision through, is it?" I guessed. "You'll end up doing what you think is right."

"I'm not as strong as you give me credit for, Tifa." he said. "Right and wrong may have never really meant much to me; I was coming back anyways. Before I was told about what happened to you, I was already past trying to live through one week at a time, or even one day. I was struggling to make it through a single hour. It was only a matter of time -- and not much of it -- until I showed up at your window and begged you to take me back. I'd be happy to beg now, if you'd like that."

I grimaced. "Be serious please."

"Oh, I am," he insisted, glaring now. "Will you please try to hear what I'm telling you? Will you let me attempt to explain what you mean to me?"

He waited, studying my face as he spoke to make sure I was really listening.

"Before you, Tifa, my life was like a moonless night. Very dark, but there were stars -- points of light and reason. Then, you shot across the sky like a meteor. Suddenly everything was on fire; there was brilliancy, there was beauty. When you were gone, when the meteor had fallen over the horizon, everything went black. Nothing had changed, but my eyes were blinded by the light. I couldn't see the stars anymore, and there was no reason for anything."

I wanted to believe him. But this was my life without him that he was describing, not the other way around.

"Your eyes will adjust," I mumbled.

"That's the problem -- they can't."

"What about your distractions?"

He laughed without a trace of humor. "Just part of the lie, love. There was no distraction from the... the agony. My heart never really beat all that well, but this was different. It was like my heart was gone, ripped from my chest with flame and ice at the same time. I'd left everything inside me here, with you."

"That's funny," I muttered.

He arched one silver eyebrow. "Funny?"

"I meant strange -- I thought it was just me. Lots of pieces of me went missing, too. I haven't been able to breathe in so long... and my heart. It was lost -- ripped away."

He closed his eyes and laid his ear over my heart again. I let my cheek press against my hair, let my hand press against his soft hair and breathed in the scent of it...

"Tracking wasn't a distraction, then?" I asked, curious, and also needing to distract myself. I was very much in danger of hoping. My heart throbbed and sung in my chest.

"No," He sighed. "That was never a distraction. It was a obligation."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that, even though I never expected any danger from Weiss, I wasn't going to let him get away with... well, like I said, I was horrible at it. I traced him as far as Junon, then followed a false lead to Costa Del Sol while he actually came here." He groaned. "I wasn't even on the same continent. and all the while, worse than my worse fears..."

"You were hunting Weiss?" I half-shrieked as soon as I could find my voice, shooting through two octaves. Barret's distance snores stuttered, then picked up a regular rhythm.

"Not well," Sephiroth answered, studying my outraged expression with a confused look. :But I'll do better this time. He won't be tainting perfectly good air by breathing in and out for much longer."

"That is... no!" I managed to choke out. Insanity. Even if he had Angeal or Genesis to help him. Even if he had them both help him. It was worse, worse than what I had imagined before. I couldn't bear to picture Sephiroth there, facing him, even though he was way more durable than Weiss.

"It's too late for him. I may have met his other offenses slide... but not after Neibelhiem... not after killing--"

I interrupted him again, trying to sound calm. "Didn't you just promise you weren't going to leave?" I asked, fighting the words as I said them, trying to keep them away from my heart.

He frowned and his pupils turned to slits again. "I will keep my promise, Tifa. But Weiss is going to die. Soon."

"Let's not be hasty," I said, trying to hide my panic. "Maybe he's not comming back. There's really no reason to go looking for him. Besides I have bigger problems than Weiss."

His eyes narrowed, but he nodded. "It's true. Avalanche is a problem."

I snorted. "I wasn't talking about Avalanche. My problems are alot worse than a bunch of self-righteous greenhorns getting themselves into trouble with Shinra."

Sephiroth looked as if he were about to say something, then thought better of it. His teeth clicked together, and he spoke through them. "Really?" He asked. "Then what would be your greatest problem? That would make Weiss's returning for you seem like such a inconsequential matter in comparison?"

"How about the second greatest?" I hedged.

"All right," he agreed, suspicious.

I paused. I wasn't sure if I could say the name. "There are others who are coming for me," I reminded him.

He sighed, but his reaction was not as strong as I would have imagined after his response to Weiss.

"Shinra is only the second greatest?"

"You don't seem that upset about it," I noted.

"Well, we have plenty of time to think it through. Time means something very different to then than it does to you, or even me. They don't believe in time. They count days the way you would count years. They think only in advances or even experimental time. They have much worse deeds on their agenda." He said lightly.

His eyes were liquid mako and utterly sincere, if slitted could be sincere. He spoke as if he'd put a endless amounts of thought into this asinine plan.

"You do realize that they won't forget, right?" I demanded. "They won't let me stay this way forever. They'll kill me. Even if they don't think of me till I'm thirty" -- I hissed the last word -- "do you really think that they will forget?"

"No," he answered slowly, shaking his head. "They won't forget. But..."

"But?"

He grinned while I stared at him warily. Maybe I wasn't the only crazy one.

"I have a few plans."

"These plans," I said, my voice getting more acidic with each word. "These plans all center around me staying... human. Slow, fragile, lowly."

How I referred to myself with that word hardened his expression. "Naturally." His tone was brusque, his divine face elegant.

We glowered at each-other for a long moment.

Then I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and pushed him away so I could sit up.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked, and it made my heart flutter to see that this idea hurt him, though he tried hard to hide it.

"No." I told him. "I'm leaving."

He watched me suspiciously as I climbed out of the bed and fumbled around in the dark room, looking for my shoes.

"May I ask where you are going?" he asked.

"I'm going to your house." I told him, still feeling around blindly.

He got up and came to my side. "Here are your shoes. How do you plan to get there?"

"I'll walk."

"What if Barret finds out?" He offered as a deterrent.

I sighed. "I know. But honestly, I'm going to be stuck in the bar for weeks as it is. How much more trouble can I really get in?"

"None. He'll blame me, not you."

"If you have a better idea, I'm all ears."

"Stay here," he suggested, but his expression wasn't hopeful.

"No dice. But you go ahead and make yourself at home." I encouraged, surprised at home natural my teasing sounded, and headed for the window.

He was there before me, blocking my way.

I frowned, and turned for the door. It wasn't really that far to be quiet, and it was mostly...

"Okay," he sighed. "Come here."

I shrugged. "Either way. But you probably should be there too."

"And why is that?"

"Because you are extraordinarily opinionated, and I'm sure you are going to want a chance to air your views."

"My views on which subject?" He asked through his teeth.

"This isn't just about you anymore. You're not the center of the universe, you know." My own personal universe, however, was a different story. "If you're going to bring Shinra down on us over something as stupid as leaving me human, then everyone else might as well have a say."

"A say in what?" He asked, each word distinct.

"My morality. I'm putting it to a vote."


End file.
